A warrent for Mr Holmes
by amypondicus
Summary: Sherlock hated birthday parties. They were pointless celebrations with people he didn't care about, for reasons he didn't care about. What is there to celebrate? Being one day older than yesterday? Boring. But what he does not anticipate is Lestrade hiring him a kissogram... Set before the Doctor comes back for Amy.


**Hello! I have a RP account on twitter for Amy Pond ( AmyPondicus) and loved one of the RPs so much that I decided to post it on here. I ship Pondlock an awful lot in case you can't guess. Half of the credit for this story goes to the amazing writer of Sherlock that is AStudyInPunk. Go follow them. Please. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

Amy Pond entered the pub confidently. All she knew was that it was some bloke's birthday and so his 'friends' had hired him a kissogram. She planned to do what she always did at parties; swagger in, give the birthday boy a quick kiss then leave with a nice sum of money in her hands.

The guy who had hired her was called Lestrade and he had specifically requested the police outfit.

Sherlock Holmes hated birthday parties. They were pointless celebrations with people he didn't care about, for reasons he didn't care about. What is there to celebrate? Being one day older than yesterday? Boring.

But the blokes at the Yard (and John himself) decided (without asking) that he had to be social. "You need to develop your social skills, it will be useful for your cases", said John. And he agreed, just to stop listening to him.

So here he was, sitting alone with half a bottle of scotch in the pub, when a female police officer approached him.

She bared her teeth in a wide smile and sashayed across to where he sat at the bar, swinging her hips and purring, "I have a special warrant for one Mr Holmes."

Sherlock didn't look up at her. Just continued staring at his glass of scotch, bored half to death.

"If this is about the drugs, for the last time, they weren't mine"

Amy's brows furrowed... drugs? What the hell was he on about?!

Her smile twitched slightly, but she managed to keep it in place, even if it did look a bit more forced than flirtatious. She took another step towards him, deciding to just continue.

"Apparently you've been a very naughty boy," she continued on with the scripted lines that went with the police uniform she was wearing, swinging the handcuffs looped through her belt around one finger.

"Naughty?"

He quirked his brow at the word choice, and looked at the young girl before him for the first time. She was evidently not an officer of the law.

"What kind of stupid joke is this?"

Yet again Amy was confused. Usually blokes just got flustered whenever she came near. But this guy was acting as though he was genuinely annoyed.

She decided to improvise.

"Ah," she tutted, wagging a finger at him as she stopped walking right in front of his bar stool. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"Oh, really?" Sherlock raised a brow.

He was amused now. The girl was evidently paid by his "friends" as a "present". A "present" he didn't care about at all in the way the blokes from the Yard would like him to. She was evidently short of money, too young to get a real job and had psychological issues.

"And what do you know about the law?" he said challengingly.

Crap. She really didn't know what to say to that. What the hell was it with this guy?! No one had ever asked her questions before!

It didn't take much usually. Just a quick kiss and the job was done. But oh no, he had to go and be difficult.

She leant down so she was at eye level with him, pursing her lips. "Enough to know that you shouldn't question a police officer when they are trying to arrest you."

Sherlock smirked at that. She obviously knew nothing about laws, as he deduced. He finished his glass of Scotch and simply offered his wrists.

"Proceed, then. /Officer/."

Amy quirked a brow. Playing along was he? She wasn't sure if she liked that... she liked to be the one in control of these things.

Ignoring his wrists, she grabbed the end of his scarf and pulled him forward, leaning down so that their faces were only centimetres apart, making Sherlock concerned for a second. He didn't like his personal space invaded at all, let alone by strangers.

Looking down at the scarf in her hands, Amy completely forgot where she was for a second and allowed herself to rub the pad of her thumb against the soft woollen material, noting what a nice shade of blue it was. How the colour reminded her of...

Sherlock studied her face as she got lost in thought. Watching the scarf. For a brief moment, a tiny shadow crossed her eyes. Just not tiny enough for him not to notice, for it was his job to observe everything.

She's lost something. Something very dear. Something connected to the texture or the colour of his scarf.

And he was curious.

"What was it?" he asked making Amy drop the scarf with a start, her train of thought broken.

She mentally shook herself as she looked up at the man.

"I'm sorry?" she muttered.

[Bingo]

"What was it that you lost?" he asked emotionlessly.

There it was. The surprise on her eyes. The question [How would you KNOW?]. Always the question.

He smirked.

His birthday wasn't going to be that boring after all.

Amy frowned. Lost? Why would he assume she had lost something? And more importantly... /how/? How could he jump to that conclusion so quickly?

Her mouth dropped open for a second before she promptly closed it and stood up straight, stammering "I... I don't know what you mean."

[She lost something, but she's also in denial]

Sherlock Holmes looked up at the girl before him, tilting his head to one side.

"You were doing what I suppose is your job, grabbed my scarf in a very disrespectful way and then you froze when you looked at it. Judging by your gestures, I assume either the texture or the colour reminded you of something since you immediately looked to your left, which is what most people do when they are trying to remember something. And why would you try to /remember/ something, if it's something you have, or are in touch with? Ergo, the scarf reminded you of something you had once, or saw once, but not anymore, since a long time ago. What was it?"

Amy's eyes widened throughout the whole of this. She felt a mixture of things towards what he was saying. A part of her was impressed. Impressed by how obviously clever this man was. How quickly his brain fit things together. Another part of her, however small, felt a pang of sadness because his cleverness reminded her of the very man she had 'lost'.

But most of all, she felt angry. Who did he think he was, reading her like she was a book?! This man, this /stranger/ was looking right into everything that she didn't want him to know! She also didn't like the way he was looking at her. Like she was some sort of puzzle he was trying to work out. Amy Pond was fed up of people looking at her like she was some bloody puzzle!

Her eyes narrowed.

"I honestly /don't/ know what you're talking about."

Sherlock quirked a brow then sighed "It's alright. Denial is a powerful force. Almost as damaging and dangerous as passion and hate. I wouldn't have expected any less in an ordinary human. Boring."

Amy Pond had been called many things before but 'boring' wasn't one of them. And she didn't like it. She was /not/ boring, she was anything /but/ boring! He was just some idiot man that didn't know anything.

But she was hired to do a job and that's what she was going to do. She saw how uncomfortable he looked when she grabbed his scarf before, so maybe once she'd done this, she'd be able to leave thinking she'd won.

She perched herself on his lap, one of her legs either side of his, and set her hands on his shoulders. _Now _she had his attention, and she'd wiped that stupid look right off his stupid, arrogant face. With the power back in her hands, Amy stooped down and put her lips beside his ear, whispering, "Happy Birthday, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock's face went completely red. What on Earth was she doing? That definitely wasn't the reaction he's expected after one of his deductions. He was used to swearing and even, sometimes, slapping.

He knew he was right, and he saw she was hurt. The payment must have been really good. Either that, or her ego was able to compete with his own.

He could only mutter, unable to move.

"T...Thank you?"

Amy smirked. This will teach him to call /her/ boring.

She moved her face so it was directly in front of his before pressing her mouth to his, in a soft, seductive kiss that earned a few wolf-whistles from some blokes who had turned to watch in the pub.

She pulled away, beaming at her victory.

Sliding off him she pulled down her impossibly short skirt.

"Enjoy the rest of your night." She grinned.

**Review?**


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